Metamorphosis
by LadyOfTheMist27
Summary: But what shall I do without my face? For it is all I have to keep you close to me. Oneshot.


**AN: IMPORTANT NOTE HERE! Asami is not in any illegal business in this story, it's all legal. Also, there will be CHARACTER DEATH in this oneshot. You have been warned.  
**

**Hey there everyone, this little oneshot was the result of me feeling all depressed about how my personal estimate of how lovable I am always seems to stem from how cute I think I look (which, I admit, is a terrible habit). And how much appearance really factors into a person's psyche. Then I started thinking about how everyone in BL seemed to be unimaginably good-looking, added in a bit of angst, and got this hot mess. I hope you like it anyways though, errors and all ^_^**

He woke up in a warm embrace. The one that made him feel the safest in the world, as if he could just drift off and never wake, eternally protected by those strong muscular arms. And then, per usual, the damn phone ruined it all. It was an irritatingly shrill ringtone. Those warm arms unwound as Asami sleepily got up, answering his phone. "Yes?"

He could hear the feminine voice on the other side of the phone. "Yes, I'll be home soon, I was just working a bit late."

And as usual, Asami bade him goodbye and shut the door. He huffed, snuggling into the now empty bed. No matter. He didn't care. His eyes fluttered shut as his face unconsciously set into a frown. He tossed and turned, willing himself to reenter the peaceful realms of sleep. But soon the warmth seeped out, leaving him with cold sheets and the lingering scent of Dunhills. A lonely mistress curled up in an expensive hotel bed, while her lover was safe and sound at his home, probably warming up his real bed. The one where he slept, not fucked. The one where his wife was, not the man he had sex with on a whim. And just for a moment, he admitted to himself that it hurt. _Happy birthday to me._

* * *

Their first encounter had been possibly the most unromantic one ever. He had just finished photographing an opulent club, and was on his way out the door, when he had bumped into the most handsome man he had ever seen. A sculpted jaw, killer body, and piercing golden eyes. Everything about Asami had been perfect. Except his personality, of course. The haughty CEO's son had taken one look at him, given a derisive snort, and walked right past him.

And of course, his every-present pride had reared up. "Rude." He had muttered, standing up and carefully checking over his camera.

Asami had paused, and shot him a glare. He had glared right back. And thus began their fucked-up courtship that had led them straight into this equally screwed-up relationship.

At first, animosity was all there was. Two people who had egos too big to be bruised. They argued and acted snide near each other, and probably would've gotten into a fist fight if Asami wasn't so civilized. But somewhere along the way, things had changed. Anger gave way to obsession. Shouting matches were converted into long bouts of angry sex. Sure, they still didn't get along most of the time, but they didn't hate each other, and provided mutual sources of sexual relief. Fuckbuddies.

And for a time, this balance was maintained.

* * *

He didn't know when it happened, but it did. He didn't even realize that anything had changed until he sat up in Asami's bed one morning and realized that they had not fucked at all, simply cuddled. Almost like they were lovers. And sure enough, more subtle changes began to crop up. Sometimes, Asami would take him out to dinner, and they would have long conversations. Other times, simple gifts would arrive at his home, unannounced. A video game he had wanted. Some new sheets (cheeky bastard). And a ring on a chain. Their relationship had once again slowly shifted.

And eventually, Asami had even asked him outright. To become his lover. He had held him and called him "beautiful" and his "one and only".

He had been so, so happy. More happy than he would've imagined. Something about being in a concrete relationship with Asami just made him content. He was Asami's _lover_. By this point, Asami had already become CEO, and was running the company very successfully. All had been well. No, not just well, it had been perfect. They had even moved in together. A perfect couple, contained in their perfect, sunny world.

And every morning, when he got to cook Asami's breakfast and send him off, he felt special. Domestic life had agreed with him. Sure, they couldn't get married, not in Japan, but a piece of paper had never mattered to him that much. After all, what was the point, they were going to be together forever, right?

* * *

Then it had happened. One chilly fall night, some burly men dressed all in black had captured him. Somehow, people had found out about their relationship, and Asami's business rivals had seized the weakness. They went, and they found Asami Ryuichi's most precious thing.

And they broke it.

He didn't remember anymore, not really. All that remained was a distinct impression of great pain. Excruciating amounts of it. Then, he had blacked out. When he woke up a month later, it was to the sound of a heart monitor and the presence of a changed Asami. Asami was different. Gone were the affectionate gestures, the loving eyes. Asami handled him stiffly, like a stranger. And when he had reached out a hand to touch him, to ask him what was wrong, why he wasn't looking at him, Asami had jerked away. As if unwilling to even touch him. It had been so confusing, so painful.

It wasn't until they brought him a mirror that he understood. His cheekbone had been broken and was badly swelling. His lip was split, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. But more than that, knife wounds ran all across his face. The stitches were innumerable, and he looked like a ragdoll, all sewn together. It was hideous. When he first saw himself, he had given a half-choked scream and thrown the mirror onto the ground.

Because, really, what did he have to offer? Asami had it all. A veritable trading empire, thousands of employees, and enough money to keep a small country afloat for decades. All he had offered was himself. His heart, and his pretty face. His _formerly_ pretty face.

It was then that he understood the appeal of marriage. Sure, it was just paper. But that piece of paper kept two people bound together. Maybe not forever, with divorce and all, but it made it harder. It was an extra string to bind two people together. And he would've used anything to hold onto Asami. Even if it meant becoming a terrible person. Because he loved the man, and he didn't think that he could live without his warmth and security.

But he was not a woman, and he did not have that slip of paper. So he couldn't do anything but stare blankly when Asami, in a halting manner, asked if they could break up. He would've giggled at the cliché line of "It's not you, it's me" if it didn't hurt so damn much.

Later, when Asami had left his hospital room, he clutched his ring and cried.

* * *

Two months later, Asami was engaged. Though their relationship was over, Asami seemed oddly insistent on continuing their friendship. When he met her for the first time, he felt broken inside. She was _beautiful._ The most lustrous black hair, the perfect Cupid's bow lips, and a pair of innocent doe eyes. And she was sweet too. Had a personality that seemed to be spun from sugar and rainbows and all the good things in life. She hadn't even seemed disgusted by his scars, which, while fading, were still very visible. In fact, she had given him a sympathetic smile and then carried on as if nothing was wrong.

He hated her. He hated her and her innocent personality and her beautiful face and the way she made Asami smile at her. But forcefully, he pasted on a smile and greeted her. It wasn't her fault, after all, that she had all the things he had ever wanted in life. She was just fortunate in life. Born into a rich family, a well-bred ojou-sama indeed.

He had smiled at her so well, apparently, that she had wanted him to photograph their wedding. She claimed that it would be better for a family friend to take the photos, to make them less impersonal, and that his photos looked very good. He had been very very tempted to throw his camera at her. Or Asami. Either one.

But he had simply smiled again, and agreed. Agreed to take the perfect picture of the perfect couple on their oh so perfect wedding day.

When Asami thanked him for agreeing, half-distant as always, he had felt his heart break a little bit more.

As expected, the wedding was a wildly extravagant affair. There were doves, a five layer cake, and six hundred people in attendance. The bride was stunning in her silk wedding dress, the groom resplendent in his fine white suit. When they posed for pictures, they had looked so lovely that the photographer in him was thrilled. His rotten personality, on the other hand, spat venom.

Near the end, when he paid his respects, the bride had giggled and thanked him over and over again for taking the photos. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she radiated joy. The smile he wore had grated on him and worn out his cheek muscles, but he had kept it on the entire wedding.

It wasn't until their private jet had taken off for Hawaii that he finally broke down and left to drink himself into a sweet oblivion.

* * *

For a time after that, his life had returned to some semblance of normalcy. He continued photography, albeit the less risky kind. Somehow he managed to pick up the pieces of his life and glue them back together. But something remade can never be the original. His friends began to notice that he always seemed a bit off. He laughed less. Smiled less. He would have times when he just sat and stared into thin air. And he avoided mirrors with a passion, despite the fact that over time, his scars had become much less pronounced, though still noticeable.

He had been content. Not happy. Only one thing would ever give him happiness, and that was Asami's love and affection. But the simple rhythm of his everyday life gave him a sort of peace.

Then the phone call came. On a perfectly ordinary Sunday night, while he was sorting through which photos to send to the Editor, his phone had rung. He had answered it without looking at the caller ID. A very drunk Asami had greeted him on the other side of the line, probably hopped up on one too many shots of whiskey. Surprisingly, Asami was a morose drunk. A morose, _honest_ drunk. And he had let out a lot of secrets.

Throughout his aimless, never-ending stream of words, he confessed his undying love (twice), explained that he had broken up with him to keep him safe, and that he wanted him. Badly.

He had hung up on the hopelessly drunk man, convinced that the alcohol had finally messed up something important in his brain. Asami had shown up at his door five minutes later, flanked by an apologetic Kirishima. He only got to glare at the secretary for a split second before he got his bones jumped.

That night had felt almost like the old times. Asami had held him gently, as if he would break in a second, and made love to him. They fell asleep, content, and woke up to the gentle caress of sunlight. He had felt so deliriously happy, even if he knew that Asami would likely leave as soon as he woke up.

But when Asami woke up, and saw his face, he had frozen. Sadness and just the faintest shred of guilt showed up in those golden eyes, and Asami had acted gentle. He wasn't demanding, or disgusted. He was kind and apologetic. Ah, so that was it. The guilt had gotten so bad in Asami that he was giving out pity fucks. Even if he still couldn't stand to see his ruined face. Coupled with lingering feelings of love, this was a recipe that would end in disaster.

The old him would've slapped Ryu silly and stormed out (or more likely just kicked Ryu out). But that him was gone. And the new him was a person starved for affection. Not just any affection, but just one man's. After getting a taste, the addiction was back and worse than ever, the most soothing opiate in the world. So he had smiled and uttered those poisonous, manipulative words:

"But don't you love me?"

* * *

Hot tears dribbled down his cheeks as he curled up tighter, tighter under the cold sheets. The darkness all around stifled him, made it harder to breathe. How long had it been since he had seen Asami's face in daylight? He didn't dare go out into the sunlight anymore, he hated it when Asami looked at his scars and felt guilt. Even worse, he feared that one day Asami would look at the scars and be disgusted. That he would leave this imperfect doll for his utterly perfect wife. And that could kill him from the inside out. So he hid in the dark, and let Asami use his hand to feel his body. Their clandestine meetings took place in dimmed rooms, with all the heavy curtains drawn shut to block out prying eyes. It wouldn't do for prime businessman Asami Ryuichi to be caught with his male lover after all.

Shakily getting out of bed, the rumpled sheets fell off of his pale skin. A small hand reached out for his phone. Just this once, he would indulge in weakness. It was his birthday after all, and he probably deserved a present or two for going through all this shit.

He patiently waited as the phone rang on the other side. Finally, he picked up.

"Hello?" The voice was tense. Asami must've memorized his number.

"Who is it?" He heard in the background, that saccharine voice, adorably sleepy.

"No one, just a subordinate. If you'll excuse me." The sound of a door shutting.

"What do you want?" Asami asked, voice hushed.

For a moment, he just stared at the phone. His mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came through. What should he say? It had been so long since they had a chance to really talk. To speak to each other in full sentences, ones that didn't involve the words "please" "fuck" and "me".

"Do you love me?" He settled on that for now.

"Of course I do." Asami's voice softened, grew soothing and gentle.

"Then why won't you leave her?" His voice was plaintive and small as he asked the question that they had avoided for so long. Once he asked this, there was no going back. No more glossing over the messy details, the ambiguous promises.

Asami didn't speak for a long time. The only sound that came through the receiver was his quiet breathing.

He felt his lips come up into a shaky smile. "You love her too, don't you?" His voice cracked.

Asami's measured response said it all. "Not as much as I love you. Not nearly."

_Not nearly. _He thought bitterly. _But still some. _Somehow, that sweet, beautiful girl, a woman now, had snagged a piece of his heart. A piece of the heart that had used to belong to him and him alone. Five years of marriage did that, he supposed. "Asami?" His breathing became uneven as traitorous tears leaked out. "I love you. I always have."

"I know." Asami said quietly. His voice was so gentle, so tender, that for a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined that it was all a bad dream. That Asami had never gotten married, that they were still living in the big penthouse together. That he would blink and wake up in that warm embrace once more, cherished and the only one. But all dreams must end.

He hung up.

* * *

The forensics people called it an accident. Asami knew better. No matter what, Akihito was always careful with medication. He was uneasy with the sleeping pills anyways, and always kept track of when he had taken one and how long ago. No, Aki had meant to take the pills. Aki had killed himself.

Even now, lying on a hard table, he looked like a sleeping angel. His blond hair in a halo around his perfectly angular face. Even the hideous scars that crisscrossed on one of his cheeks seemed to only accent his tragic beauty. They bespoke of a hard life unfairly brought upon a wonderful person. It was hard to believe that he had died.

He reached out, and caressed Aki's cheek. It was still so soft, but pale and devoid of the typical blush. His plump lips were also faded, no longer the luscious pink they once were. The clack of shoes against the hard linoleum floor made him look up.

Kirishima, his ever faithful secretary stood there, awkwardly holding an envelope. "What's that?" Asami really didn't give a damn what it was, to be honest, but business stopped for no one.

The bespectacled man cleared his throat. "It appears to be a letter from Takaba-sama."

He grabbed the envelope immediately, examining it. On the front, the neat characters for Asami Ryuichi were written. A sudden dread filled him. What would Aki say? Would he spew words of hatred, accusations of Asami being a liar and a cheat? Would he blame his death on Asami? For those words, more than anything else, would break his heart.

Opening it, he carefully drew out the letter and the ring that were inside.

_Dear Ryuichi,_

_When you get this, I'll probably be either dead or in a coma. If I'm in a coma, then you should totally sue the drug company for making weak sleeping pills. And if I'm dead…well, I'm sorry. You probably want to know why I did what I did. After all, it's not like we haven't been doing this for a while. So I figured that at the very least I owed you a proper response and conversation. Lord knows we haven't been talking to each other a lot. _

_I love you Ryu. I love you so much that I would do anything at all. In fact, I love you enough to not ruin your marriage. I know, after all, that Ayumi makes you happy, and that's all I ever wanted for you. Happiness. _

_But I'm also a terribly selfish person. To be honest, I wanted your eyes to belong to me and none other. I wanted to be the center of your world, even if this face you used to adore is no longer what it was. And this urge eats at me. It's like a poisonous little devil that sits there and whispers terrible things day in and day out. It tells me to confess to Ayumi, to bring it out into the public. It tells me to demand that you choose between your family and me. It is a desperate little thing that will do anything for your attention and love. I am ashamed to say that I have given in more than once. _

_So, don't be sad Ryu, I don't want to see you like that. Just continue being happy. Cultivate your marriage into a more faithful one, Ayumi deserves it. Go forward in life and maybe even have a child or two. I'm sure fatherhood will agree with you!_

_But if I may make a final request, please don't forget me. I don't want you to obsess over this of course. But please don't forget about us, and what we once were. Because those days were the best days of my life. And I hope that you enjoyed our time too. _

_Whew, that was a lot to say, wasn't it? I'm glad we could get this out of the way in the end. I'll be waiting Ryu, waiting for you forever. For now though, I will relinquish my grasp on your heart. Be free, Ryuichi, and enjoy your life. And when it's done, come back to me. _

_Love Always,_

_Takaba Akihito_

_PS The ring you gave me was so lovely, I couldn't bear the thought of having it encased in a stone coffin ten feet under. So I'll give it back to you along with your heart._

Tears dotted the paper as Asami tightly clutched the ring. And silently, heedless of Kirishima, he bent over the dead body of his love and wept. And as every tear left his body, his heart grew a little lighter. As if the venom of their toxic relationship was slowly bleeding out, leaving only the warm memories of when life had been simple and they had been happy.

Once he had no more tears to shed, he slowly stood and walked out the door. He didn't look back. Finally, Asami Ryuichi was able to close the cover on that chapter of his life, and start anew on a blank page. Looking up at the bright sky, so like Aki, he smiled. _Thank you, Akihito._

* * *

"What's wrong now?" Asami indulgently asked the crying boy.

"A-all the kids at school make fun of my name." He hiccupped. Though he was blessed with Asami's looks, he had received Ayumi's gentle nature. "They say that every part of me is so dark, it makes no sense for me to be named after the light."

"Nonsense," Ryuichi picked the boy up, sitting him on his lap. "You're the light of my life."

The boy's tears slowly stopped and he giggled, hugging his father. Yes, his father was the best. He never failed to make a bad thing seem better. "Why did you name me Akihito?" He asked curiously. Really, with the pitch black hair and dark brown eyes, it seemed like a misnomer.

"Because you were so bright to me that you reminded me of another Akihito from long ago." Asami sighed, gently patting his head.

"There's another me?" He asked excitedly, his bright eyes lit up with the idea that there might be another person sharing his name. A twin? He had always wanted one of those.

"No, no, he's much older than you," Asami laughed. "But his name was also Akihito, and he also lit up my life."

"Can we go visit him?" His dad had lots of friends, and they often traveled to see them, he reasoned. Surely they could also go see this one.

Asami's eyes dimmed a bit. "No, Aki, I'm afraid that the other Akihito has moved to a place far, far away."

"How far?"

"As far as the sun and moon and stars." Asami whispered.

"Why did he move so far away?" Aki couldn't understand, he liked his home plenty. Tokyo was a nice place, why would anyone go live somewhere so far away?

"Because daddy was mean to him." Asami admitted.

"Then why don't you apologize?" His lips formed a pout. "You always say that if I say sorry and mean it, the other person will forgive me."

"Unfortunately," Asami sighed, "He's gone somewhere so far away that he won't be able to hear me say sorry anymore."

Aki's eyes grew glossy. He didn't like this situation much. "Will daddy ever see the other Aki again?" It seemed very sad to never be able to see a friend again. He couldn't imagine never being able to see Izumi-kun, his best friend.

Asami stared off into the distance, his eyes pensive. "Maybe one day I—"

"Aki, dinner time! It's your favorite!" Ayumi suddenly called out.

The five year old clapped his chubby hands. "Yay, yakisoba!" He ran to the kitchen, momentarily forgetting the other Aki.

Asami stared after his son. Maybe one day, he mused, when he was older, they could go and visit Akihito together.

Standing up, he followed his son into the kitchen at a more leisurely pace, a silver ring swinging on a chain about his neck.

_Fin_

**AN: Hi there, anyone who read the entire thing. Thanks for sparing the time to read this oneshot! I hope you enjoyed it, even if the ending wasn't a happily-ever-after. Please drop a review giving your opinions, good or bad!**


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